


western ride

by resurrectdead



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Begging, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Cowboy Hats, Cowboy Kink, Daddy Kink, Dean Winchester Has a Wild West Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, rope, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectdead/pseuds/resurrectdead
Summary: Castiel shifts where he’s standing. ”It seems that, once, I came to visit you at an unceremonious time,” he continues raspily. ”When you were alone and watching something on the TV, that we’re not supposed to watch when other people are in the room.”or: Dean finds Castiel in the motel room with a cowboy hat and it’s so not okay
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 204





	western ride

**Author's Note:**

> going out of this year with a bang bang yeehaw

There are two very distinctly different ways you can go about finding your favorite angel in your motel room trying on a _cowboy hat_ , at least that Dean can think of. 

You could laugh and question the occasion. Because, how _weird_. How _kooky._

You could also, you know, demand to know what the fuck his _problem_ is, because doesn’t he know Dean loves cowboys and loves them to a point of not even caring they wear nothing but the hat itself? Because doesn’t he know he literally watches porn with them as the main characters whenever he has a moment alone? Doesn’t he know that this will significantly damage his sanity? (Or, you know, what’s left of it and all that jazz.)

Dean leans towards the latter option, because he: stumbles over the threshold and curses loudly as the whole visual hits him like a punch, square in the gut. Right in the fucking arousal. 

”Bitch-” he quips on instinct and nearly grabs his junk just for emphasis. 

Castiel turns around, and Dean swears he smirks too. He’s such a piece of _shit_ , what the fuck? Because like, for one, who looks that good? Fully dressed (in a _trenchcoat_ no less, because they’re by default not _sexy_ , but Dean can’t seem to simply _not see them as sexy when Cas is the one wearing it_ ), plus with an extra layer on top of that. The hat. The fucking cowboy hat, oh my god, it just shouldn’t be a _thing._ He’s seen too many gorgeous men in too many settings, positions... too many times alone in a rented room, with a rented film and his hand down his pants, transfixed by the men on the screen.

Basically, if he tried to keep it in the friendzone before this, it’s a power of will that’s currently leaving straight out the window. But? He shouldn’t be turned on by dressing up. He knows this. Only by dressing down, because that’s logical, that makes _sense_. (And he should totally be dressing down right now instead... but, also keep the hat on. Just for, uh, good luck.)

Secondly, though, who dares mess with his porn preferences just like that? A _jerk_ , that’s who, because these are very precious things to a man with deep, unruly needs. Castiel wouldn’t have the bleakest understanding of that, but still, Dean kind of wants to rip him apart right now just for fucking with him, and maybe by starting with his clothes. Maybe, just maybe by using his teeth, and lips and tongue and tasting his skin while he does it.

Okay, yeah, that cowboy hat is kind of making his pulse quicken, more than the anger over the _audacity_ he has to pull a stunt like this. 

He was unprepared, alright? This was a low blow. Not cool. Totally not cool. 

But Castiel just tilts the Stetson hat in greeting, voice raspy and rough. _”Howdy.”_

”Fuck off,” Dean sputters and quickly closes the door behind himself, fumbling for the lock. ”I mean, like _excuse me_ for barging into my _own room_ and all, when clearly I’ve interrupted something very _important_ here.”

He can’t help but spit venom, but it’s okay though. He just needs Castiel to get out so he can lock the door, jerk off, specifically not think of him and how he looked approximately those 20 seconds earlier, probably jerk off again because he’ll have inevitably thought a lot about it, have a drink and a crisis and and then go the fuck to sleep.

He turns back around to face him, raising a finger. ”What are you seriously even doing?”

”I’m seducing you,” Castiel says simply, and oh, Dean has suddenly become a warm puddle on the floor. 

”Jesus,” he breathes, falling back against the door. ”You can’t do that, Cas. Seriously, this is just out of bounds for me. I mean I gotta give it to ya, _nice effort_ and all but you just have _no_ idea-”

”I do know,” Castiel corrects him, tilting his head. His silhouette against the big windows where the curtains are drawn makes Dean’s head spin a little bit too violently for his already damaged composure, and pride, trying to not sink to his knees right away and beg for Cas to let him touch him, just let him mouth over the front of his pants as that cowboy hat towers over him. ”I know what you like.”

Warmth floods Dean’s entire body. ”Oh?” He blinks rapidly and his knees wobble, but he’d never admit that out loud. ”Is that so?”

Castiel shifts where he’s standing. ”It seems that, once, I came to visit you at an _unceremonious_ time,” he continues raspily. ”When you were alone and watching something on the TV, that we’re not supposed to watch when other people are in the room.”

Dean draws a breath, mortified at the same time as his heart hammers high in his chest for quite some other reasons than embarrassment. Porn, porn, sweet gay cowboy porn. Dean, sweet unknowing Dean, jacking off to cowboys fucking on a screen.

”You told me about this once,” Castiel recalls. ”This time, you seemed— occupied.” His eyes flick to Dean’s lips. ”But I observed, before I left.” (Oh my fucking god.) ”And I listened, specifically… to the sounds you made.” His eyes drift down, down. ”I believe you found great joy in the video.”

”What the hell?” Dean wheezes under his breath, heat creeping into his face, mind spinning, heart pounding. 

Castiel tilts his head like it’s a shrug. His eyes flick up to meet Dean’s again. ”They had very nice cowboy outfits, until they undressed each other and discarded them.” He slides his fingers across the brim of the hat, mimicking what he must have seen the pornstar do. ”I made the decision to bring my own.”

And alright, what the _hell_ , Dean is kind of resisting physically holding his dick down (bad boy, stay!) so, rest assured, he’d be horrifyingly embarrassed if he wasn’t so damn turned on already... it’s like the whole world feels kind of hazy, the lines of morals and what-have-yous kind of blurred and melty. 

And Castiel is only just talking. And Dean is only just looking. (Dean is only just trying to fight away a boner with the power of self-control alone.) 

That’s evil, pure evil. (And his dick is irresponsible and needs a good talking about the house rules, he thinks, pretty deliriously, thanks very fucking much.)

”Alright, stop. Back up.” Dean puts his hands up in surrender, eyes closing. He sighs slowly, frustratedly, temples drumming with his pulse (but at least that’s better than where it’s throbbing somewhere between his legs). ”This is so wrong. Like _so_ wrong.”

”I thought it was right,” Castiel says blankly with a furrow between his bright blue eyes. ”You don’t like this?”

”Well as a matter of fact”, Dean starts in a mumble, speaking to the floor, ”I think I do a bit too much, Cas.”

”Oh. Then I’m not wrong.”

Dean looks up to see Castiel circle a chair, and, raising his hands, it scrapes with a muffled sound across the carpeted floor until he’s moved it into the middle of the room. (That’s— surely one way to use angelic powers, to be fair. It’s just very Big Dick Energy kind of move that makes Dean just stand and blink as his mind wanders to more sacrilegious thoughts.) 

Cas gestures towards it it, shadows across the sternness etched on his devastatingly handsome face, but those eyes are lit up. Glowing, like the anticipation of a neon sign, pointing to-? Well, all things Dean desperately loves. Bar? Strip club? _All you can eat?_

Dean swallows, imagines yet again his teeth and tongue against his skin. The way he’d look at him with that ruggedly handsome expression. Imagines the way he could use those powers for much more pleasurable events than redecorating a goddamn motel room. (With great angel power comes great angel responsibility.)

With a skeptical look - and ready to start swinging if this is some sort of sicko prank, if Sam is hiding behind the closet door or some shit, because that would not be _fucking funny_ \- Dean saunters up quietly and sinks down into the chair. Unable to see Castiel where he stands somewhere behind him, he clenches his jaw in discontentment. 

He’s surprised when Castiel suddenly swings his leg over his waist, and oh my fucking god, there he is. That motherfucker. Planting himself in his lap. _And_ , he’s straddling him. 

Right, okay, because it’s totally just the _surprise_ that makes Dean gasp. Not the way his aching cock touches Castiel’ thigh as it brushes past him, or the way his stomach goes through an entire rollercoaster ride of the dirtiest, most burning hot emotions. 

He flicks his eyes up when he feels something placed on top of his head. Another cowboy hat. ”Oh _fuck_ , are you _kidding_ me right now?”

”No,” Castiel says, because it’s that simple. 

It’s not that simple. “I must be dreaming,” Dean mumbles on, drunk on the touch of Castiel, his hands resting on his shoulders and his toned legs bracing his waist, the way his knees brush below his jacket. ”Seriously, where _am_ I?”

“You’re with me, Dean,” Castiel says and wets his lips, having Dean staring transfixed at him, only to be stared back at exactly the same. “I’m going to tie your hands now.”

Dean involuntarily gasps. He closes his mouth abruptly and clears his throat, tries again. “Uh, sorry, you’re going to _what exactly?”_

But a piece of rope is gathered from out of seemingly thin air as Castiel grabs Dean’s wrists behind the chair. His face comes inching closer to Dean’s as he reaches to tie his wrists together tightly, working quickly, an almost strict look on his face and Dean could be _shivering_ with every gentle brush of his fingertips if he totally lacked all sense of self control. 

Which thankfully he doesn’t. Right? _Right_ , but Dean still feels Castiel’ drumming heartbeat against his own. Which actually just makes him wonder if maybe, maybe it’s actually all his _own_ , working double, triple, quadruple its normal pace. Because this is not okay. This is not _cool._ He feels his dick twitch where it’s strapped an inch from Castiel’s thigh he so badly wants to rut against, and and hopes to god he can resist whimpering (but as it turns out he’s just about ready to start _begging_ and calling him _Daddy_ and _please can you spank me_ and _oh my god I promise to be a good boy_ ). 

Dean can’t take it. He _can’t._ He’ll come untouched and it will be the _end_ of him. 

“Now,” Castiel sighs and leans back, and the urge to kiss him is so strong Dean could _sob_. Dean tests the strength of the ropes instead, quite used to being bound by some maniac or another; they’re just tight enough, and he could probably break loose if he wanted to, but he really doesn’t think he does. ”I have a question.”

Dean’s voice almost gone with how far past horny he is. He furrows his brow a little to try and cover it up, clears his throat again. ”Yes, dear? And what would that be?”

Castiel smirks and grabs the back of Dean’s neck with one hand and his shoulder with the other. He holds him tightly as Dean stares right into his wickedly blue eyes, but his head goes tipping right back and stuttering a moan when Castiel _grinds_ up against him; friction on friction, hot and hard. 

”Wanna go for a ride,” Castiel murmurs, breathy and high, right above his exposed neck, ” _cowboy?”_

”Fucking hell,” Dean moans, coming out sounding absolutely _whiny_ and he grabs for anything he can at all, which ends up being the back of the chair, white-knuckling it while his cock throbs for attention, _more_ of it, _just_ like that. ”Where did you learn this?” He doesn’t wait for a response. He swallows hard, squeezes his eyes shut as he nods. ”Right. Right, the porno. Hm. Clever.”

”Thank you”, Castiel replies, and his lips connect hotly to his neck as he kisses all the bared skin with Dean’s head tipped back, and Dean arches his hips up, trying so hard to get more friction.

“Fucking _please_ ,” Dean breathes, cock aching almost _painfully_ now, must be swollen and leaky and so incredibly needy. 

“What do you want me to do?” Castiel asks him, voice vibrating against his skin. “There were so many options at this point. All so enthralling. I just couldn’t choose the best plan of action.”

A-million-and-one scenarios flash through Dean’s mind. The amount of positions… the amount of games, words, toys, techniques he’s stumbled upon... 

Which ones have Cas discovered? Which ones did he like himself? 

“Fuck,” Dean musters, head lolling forward to look Castiel in the eyes. It’s a bad decision, as it goes, because it just drives him closer to the point of spontaneously coming. “I don’t know. I don’t _know_ , man, my brain is fucking fried, _fuck_.” He wets his lips furiously, wants to drown in the blue of his eyes. ”What- what do you _think_ should come next?”

Castiel grabs the back of Dean’s head and he only has time to draw a sharp breath before he’s kissing him. 

Dean moans into it, with surprise - no, _really_ this time - and with the lust surging through his body like a hot flash. Their hats almost get knocked right off, and especially so when Castiel starts rocking in his lap, grinding up against him with steady motions. Steady, turning gradually more sloppy, more _wanting_. Dean’s bound hands tremble against the rope holding them in place behind him, out of his control, breath coming out in huffs between them. 

Like Cas almost wants it as badly as he does.

No, _no_ , he can’t _take_ it. If this is happening, and if it may never happen ever again… because he really must have lucked the fuck out this time and he doesn’t know what the hell he did to deserve it… Then it should be done _all_ the way.

“Wait,” Dean moans against his lips, and Castiel makes a painful departure from him. “Fuck, ride me like that, baby. You’re doing so good but just, undo my zip, please. Please _touch_ me.”

Castiel looks with pure fucking wonder down at where Dean’s jeans are tenting. He follows his instructions though, making Dean wonder just _how_ well he studied whatever he’d been watching at the time. 

Because, he doesn’t just go straight for it. No, Dean has to hitch on his breath with the way he starts by going down his torso - slow, slow, nimble fingers, ghosting - then rubbing down the front of his jeans to make him quiver. It’s like a cry of _hallelujah_ when he pulls the zip down swiftly and his hand disappears below his boxers, but doesn’t help Dean regain any sanity whatsoever. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Dean stutters in a breath when his hand wraps around him, thumb on the swollen head, surely _teasing_ despite how he probably doesn’t quite understand the concept of it; he’s the expert now, he’s in charge, and Dean is just passing the fuck out from how horny he is from that fact alone. 

”Oh,” comes Castiel’s breathy voice in return, pupils blown wide, lips wet and raw. He slides his hand along his length, slick with precum, and Dean is honestly losing his mind right here. 

“Hey, do yours,” Dean breathes as suddenly as the thought strikes him. ”Let’s just, _fuck_ , let’s do it together. Just take us both in your hand. Try.”

Castiel’ lips have parted to emit small, ragged breaths when he takes himself out of the front of his own, neatly straightened dress pants, and Dean has to press his own lips together to repress any noise. 

When Castiel wraps his hand around both their cocks at the same time, and Dean feels the warmth and hardness and the weight of him against himself, he only has to stroke quickly once, twice, slick and wet and made of fucking wonderous wonders… so that when Castiel surges forward and kisses Dean’s neck, he’s suddenly _coming_ like he’s hit by a fucking _freight train_. Hips stuttering up from the chair, he releases a broken whimper, straining against the rope where it burns into his wrists like it’s the best pain in the world. 

He comes back down from the high with his chest still heaving. Cas still pumping, his panting breath hot over Dean’s skin. 

”Yeah, baby,” Dean moans as he feels his pace quicken, that he’s edging closer himself. ”Do it. Ride me just like that. You’re so _good_.”

It seems to do the trick as Castiel bites down hard on his neck and shudders, and he feels him spill hotly over his dick, dripping onto the exposed part of his tummy. Dean releases a breathy laugh, bordering on becoming hard all _over_ again feeling Castiel all around himself, his scent and warmth, spent and panting. 

” _God_ , Cas,” Dean breathes, flicks his eyes down to stare between them. ”Look at that.”

Castiel looks him square in the eyes, squinting. ” _He_ has nothing to do with it.”

”No.” Dean barks a laugh, feeling slightly delirious but hey, fairly fucking fantastic compared to when he stumbled through the door moments before. ”Course not. Silly me.”

Castiel hums as he tucks himself back in his pants. ”Was that good for you?”

”You gotta ask, huh? _Yes,_ my dear, if you couldn’t tell that was fan-fucking—”

Castiel looks up with his eyes wide with realisation. _”Wait,_ there’s one more thing.” 

Dean arches an eyebrow as Castiel sinks down from his lap and, kneeling in front of him, flicks his eyes up to meet his gaze so that Dean’s stomach twists up. Because, despite feeling about as good as pink jell-o, Cas on his knees with the skewed damn cowboy hat on top of his head, from behind which his blue blue _blue_ eyes are peeking out and looking up at him... 

It’s just quite the sight for sore eyes, man, and Dean clenches his jaw with determination not to actually get another boner like a damn teenager. Because if his pride is still around , somewhere, someplace, dust in the wind, then that would definitely be the deal-breaker for it to say bye-bye now. 

Castiel pokes his tongue out and licks a stripe up Dean’s spent cock, so that he draws a sharp breath, hips arching up from the chair that creaks miserably beneath him. Dean watches with big eyes as he kisses the head, swallows the cum, just like, _oh._ Okay. _He did that._

God bless gay cowboy porn. 

Castiel - very contently - tucks him back in his jeans and does his zip up. ”There. Now I’m finished.”

”That’s a signature?” Dean mutters to nobody in particular, because what the fuck? What did he do to deserve all this, _honestly?_ He kind of can’t repress the grin that’s spread across his face. ”Damn, alright. Do what you want. You’re the boss.”

”We should do it more often,” Castiel says gently and gets up from off the floor, tilts his hat for him. ” _Pardner.”_

Dean bites his lip for a moment, smirking around it. ”If you say so, man, you know I couldn’t say no. Just uh- don’t leave me tied up like this, willya?” He scrunches his nose at the thought. ”I think Sammy wouldn’t be too happy to be the one to undo me from a kinky situation.”

”You know what,” Castiel says, eyes narrowed, backing away to inspect his masterpiece, ”I’m just starting to consider it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me and my gf’s headcanon is basically that dean is a blushy tsundere and he deserved a happy ending!!!
> 
> please consider checking out the last fic I posted with these idiots if you liked this for some short domestic bliss and dumbassery ♡ and thank you so much for reading! happy new year!!


End file.
